


Crown Jewel of Dreamland

by RadiantSeraphina (Lady_Arrowwood)



Series: Dreamland University [1]
Category: Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Drama & Romance, F/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/RadiantSeraphina
Summary: Prequel to Dreamland University. Sectonia, Crown Princess of Dreamland, chooses to attend a university in Floralia, Dreamland's northern neighbor. She hopes to learn what life is really like outside of her mother's reach and outside of the palace and--hopefully--become a better future Queen. Taranza was never part of the plan, but Sectonia would be lying if she said he wasn't a welcome addition.





	1. Lady of the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sectonia Anon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sectonia+Anon).



> For a Tumblr anon who sent me a message saying, "how did sectonia and taranza meet in your university au? did they start out as friends like in canon? sectonia says she knew hes always been interested in her and ive been wondering ever since what her original movies were.."
> 
> Here's a fanfic just for you. I figure I can now post this without spoiling "Dreamland University," so here you are. Enjoy! <3

To anyone that wasn’t royal or noble, Duchess Delilah, Lady of the Stars, probably appeared to have an extravagant estate, completely on par with her peers. However, Sectonia was very royal, indeed. To her, it was apparent that the duchess had chosen the most low-maintenance perennials she could find for her gardens, and judging from the leaves dotting the entryway, she’d cut down on her servants in the recent years. Rumor was she only had eight. Most noble houses managed with a minimum of eighteen servants, and most royal houses had thirty. The palace had three-hundred fifty.

 

As Sectonia approached the door, she waved a dismissive hand to her valet. He would tend to her luggage before leaving, but at the moment, he would linger back and wait for Sectonia to be greeted. As expected, the door opened before she could even knock. However, it wasn’t a butler greeting her. It was the duchess, herself.

 

Delilah wasn’t a conventionally attractive woman. She was too broad, too heavy, and too hard-featured. She looked like she could snap a man in half with her bare hands, yet she dressed most often in light, pastel fabrics, decorated with a generous amount of ruffles. Sectonia rarely spoke with the woman, and she’d have preferred to spend her last night in Dreamland in a nice hotel rather than a failing estate. Delilah would probably prefer that, too.

 

But people would certainly talk if the Crown Princess of Dreamland chose to ignore the one Dreamlandic royal that lived closest to their northern neighbor. When Delilah bowed, her dishwater-brown hair slipped over her shoulders. “Welcome, Your Royal Highness, to my estate. It is such an honor.”

 

Delilah was _very good_ at sounding sincere. “Indeed.”

 

The duchess ushered her inside. Delilah’s practical, three-inch block heels made a clunking sound on the hardwood floor. Sectonia suddenly felt awkward with her tall, fashionable stilettos and long, tulle-and-satin midnight-blue dress. Clearly, her distant relatives prided themselves on being utilitarian. “Ah, Dedede,” Delilah said, greeting her son as he stepped around a corner.

 

Dedede, catching sight of Sectonia, bowed and stumbled over his greetings. Sectonia acknowledged him with an appropriate, princess-like nod.

 

She hadn’t spent much time with Dedede either, even though they were both twenty years old and had grown up in the same place. Dedede fidgeted with the collar of his red, button-up shirt. “Dinner’s ready,” he said.

 

“Excellent,” Delilah replied.

 

Sectonia followed them to the dining room. It was a very simple room, holding a long dining table. The walls were bare, save for a large portrait of the duchess, beaming and smiling, with her hands resting on the shoulder's of her son. Being of highest rank, Sectonia sat at the head of the table. Delilah sat to her right with Dedede beside her. Sectonia wondered, as the single maid hastened to place their wineglasses before them, how many generations it would be until this royal house completely failed. Two or three? Four, perhaps, if one of them sold their estate along the Floralian border. Delilah had once said she never would; according to her, a person couldn’t properly rule an area he or she didn’t live in. It was a sound idea, for Delilah’s region _was_ doing well. She put her emphasis on good and accessible education and on improving Dreamlandic-Floralian relations. Her budget was usually sound; she never took extra money from it for herself. Morale was high in her region.

 

Her house was still failing.

 

Unless Delilah or her son could secure a good marriage. The princess felt a swell of pity; she knew how seriously marriage was taken amongst people of their status. She, of course, had her pick of suitors, but some were not so fortunate. Besides, a royal woman with an adult son was already at a disadvantage; no one wanted to flirt with a potential succession crisis. And Delilah, herself, couldn’t have more children anyway.

 

The placement of the dishes indicated a five-course meal, and dessert looked to be ice cream from the position of the spoon above their plates. Over dinner, they exchanged small-talk, as if Delilah didn’t already know everything about Sectonia and as if Sectonia was entirely ignorant about the duchess’s difficulties. It was inoffensive if a bit boring. Visits of this sort usually were.

 

“Can I go visit Meta?” Dedede asked abruptly, speaking the first words he’d spoken all meal.

 

 _What?_ No one had ever requested to leave a dinner with _Sectonia_ present. She was the most important person in Dreamland, second only to Queen Alera, herself. Sectonia maintained her composure. She wasn’t even sure if she was more insulted or more baffled.

 

“Dedede, we have a guest,” Delilah replied.

 

A proper, predictable answer.

 

“C’mon, Mom! Y’all don’t need to talk with me. ‘Sides, I ain’t seen him in a couple days. He might wanna spend the night. Well, assuming he ain’t still upset over me kneeing him in the…” Dedede trailed off and cast a nervous glance towards Sectonia. “Uh…reproductive organs.”

 

Delilah pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “Text me if you’re gonna be out late. Try not to assault the poor boy this time. Y'know Leyla'll just tell him to suck it up no matter whatcha do to him.”

 

Dedede beamed and rushed from his chair. “Thanks, Mom!” he exclaimed.

 

Sectonia frowned. Dedede was correct; they probably wouldn’t discuss anything of interest. Everyone knew the duchess’s son cared little for politics. Still, he surely didn’t need to run off like that, did he? He could’ve at least had the courtesy to stay and suffer like the rest of them. “I wasn’t aware there were other aristocratic children in this region,” Sectonia said.

 

Sectonia knew very well there were no aristocratic children living near Duchess Delilah, which meant Dedede had abandoned her for some _common_ boy. That only added insult to injury. “There ain’t,” Delilah said.

 

Either the duchess was oblivious or—more likely—was pretending she hadn’t noticed the slight. “Ah, a socialite, then?” Sectonia asked.

 

“No, Meta’s quite common,” Delilah said, “He came from an abusive household, so I pulled a few strings and set him up in a decent foster home. Family of jewelers. They’re clearly just taking in kids for the money, but they ain’t the worst home. They make sure he has food and water, decent clothes, a place to sleep at night, and I pick up the slack. They leave him to his own devices, which I s’pose suits him fine. He ain’t interested in having loving parents.”

 

“But is it wise to leave him with such people?” Sectonia asked. “Why couldn’t you take him in?”

 

“Meta’s a very proud boy,” Delilah said. “He don’t like the thought of just living with someone—mooching, he calls it. He figures with foster care, at least they’re getting paid to take care of him.”

 

It was…unconventional to have an aristocratic child of Dedede’s age having common friends, but Sectonia supposed it would be worse if Dedede had no friends, especially since he seemed to have developed a disdain for most courtiers in the capital. It was a pity. Considering his skills with the war-hammer, Dedede might’ve been able to secure a position on Queen’s Guard if he’d been more approachable and less blunt.

 

“He’s a charming boy,” Delilah added with a fond smile, “Very intelligent and quick-witted. If you can coax a conversation outta him, he’s quite lovely.”

 

“You’re very fond of this young, common man,” Sectonia said.

 

“You oughta see the Floralians.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re gonna find, Your Royal Highness, that the Floralians ain’t as strict on class like we are in Dreamland. You’re gonna see all sorts together, but that’s good for you. It’ll be a decent learning experience, though I gotta admit that I was a bit surprised you didn’t just go to Dreamland University. I don’t think any Dreamlandic royal has ever went to university in Floralia.”

 

Sectonia carefully maintained her polite smile. “I think, Delilah, that as the Crown Princess I ought to more thoroughly immerse myself into the politics of our neighboring kingdoms. It was very gracious of the Floralian government to allow me attendance to one of their most prestigious schools. This will, of course, also aid Dreamlandic-Floralian relations, which I’m sure you’re also very passionate about.”

 

So passionate that she, when racing against the clock, had specifically chosen a Floralian man to father her only child. It was widely known that Duchess Delilah could never have another one, but those matters were only discussed behind closed doors and in backhanded compliments. And Sectonia, herself, would never stoop so low as to mock a fellow woman’s infertility. A duchess without the ability to produce heirs was a disgraced woman amongst royals.

 

Delilah smirked. Evidently, her thoughts hadn’t traveled the same distressing route as Sectonia’s. “And here I believed the tabloids in thinking you just wanted to get away from Alera.”

 

Sectonia was careful not to let her smile waver. “The best way to understand other cultures is to immerse yourself fully into them,” Sectonia replied, ready with her excuse. “I’ve no doubt that studying Floralian politics—”

 

Delilah snorted. “ _Politics_? You’re gonna get a degree in what you’ve been trained your whole life to get? You oughta do something different, Alera be damned.”

 

Sectonia clenched her jaw. “And pray tell, what does Dedede intend to pursue a degree in?”

 

Nothing, if the rumors were true.

 

“Archaeology with a concentration in paleontology,” Delilah replied breezily. “He’s trying to coax his friend into going with him.”

 

“His _common_ friend?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It was little wonder that everyone at court despised this woman, who let her royal-blooded child gallivant around and befriend a common one. Sectonia wondered if Delilah had an ulterior motive, if she’d noticed the unrest in the capital and wanted to endear herself to the lower and middle classes, as a matter of self-preservation.

 

“I’d advise you to keep an open mind, Your Royal Highness. That kinda thing is gonna serve you well someday,” Delilah said. “The world’s changing; y’know.”

 

Sectonia knew it all too well.

 

There’d been a protest just before she left the capital, comprised primarily of Patchlanders and Halcandrans, against Queen Alera. Sectonia gazed at the dusk-swaddled sky. It might’ve been easier to condemn the actions of Dreamland’s citizens if it’d been her fellow royals or nobles protesting, but with Patchlanders and Halcandrans, it was more difficult.

 

Granted, the late king of Patchland had sold his kingdom to Dreamland, and it’d been his actions that saved their struggling country. But the man Alera had chosen to govern the nation hadn’t been popular. He’d pushed too hard to make Patchland into Dreamland, and his decision to strip Patchlandic royals and nobles, mostly those well-beloved and trusted by their people, of their high statuses on a whim hadn’t done him any favors.

 

The issue with Halcandra was even more complicated. After King Bikaia’s death, the Ancient Ones had deemed the Halcandrans too dangerous. After all, the infamous Sir Galacta Knight, Knight of the Slaughter, had been one of them. They’d killed many of them, and the Halcandrans had nowhere to flee. Their nation had been destroyed by the great dragon Landia under circumstances that weren’t still fully understood.

 

Dreamland’s history was written in blood and magic, and Sectonia, herself, was simply another chapter. Another future queen in a long line of kings and queens, who’d done too little or too much. Wouldn't it be wonderful, for a handful of semesters, simply to leave it all behind?


	2. Prince of Floralia

While winter had yet to sink her fingers properly into Dreamland, she already held Floralia in her grasp. Gentle, fluffy flurries had fallen as Sectonia moved into her private suite with five of her servants. It was similar in size to her apartments in the palace, and a massive bouquet of pink roses—courtesy of the Floralian royal family—awaited her.

 

Now, it was the first day of the semester, and a well-crystallized layer of snow lay upon the ground outside Sectonia’s suite. The chauffeur already had the car ready and warming, as Sectonia’s lady’s maid helped her don her wool longcoat.

 

Dame Garlude, the newly appointed Knight-Commander of the Queen’s Guard, stood nearby, texting. She was ready to go already. The knight wore bright, intricately embossed armor underneath her royal purple, ermine-trimmed cape. The outfit was primarily ceremonial and an invention of Queen Alera’s. Everyone knew Garlude hated wearing fur, just as everyone knew that no one refused a gift from the Queen.

 

Garlude hadn’t wanted to come to Floralia. She had a young daughter at home, and Alera had been very insistent that Garlude’s daughter, Silica, remain in the capital. A young child would only be a distraction; the Queen said.

 

As the newly appointed knight-commander, Garlude hadn’t had much of a choice in the end.

 

Sectonia would’ve preferred a knight who would actually _enjoy_ her company, but once Alera decided that Garlude would be going, there was no changing her mind.

 

“I believe botany is my first class?” Sectonia asked.

 

Garlude reluctantly pocketed her phone. “Yes,” she said.

 

It was the only class Sectonia had that sounded remotely interesting. Sectonia had loved flowers and plants since she was a little girl and playing in the palace hedge maze and gardens. That had ended when Sectonia got older and was expected to keep her skin the acceptable snow-white hue, but Sectonia’s love for plants had never faded.

 

Sectonia paused at the mirror beside the door and turned her head, checking one last time to ensure that her make-up and hair were perfect. They were, but Sectonia still drew a finger over her cheekbone, making her highlighter a little brighter.

 

Garlude opened the door and curtsied. “Shall we be on our way, Your Royal Highness?”

 

Cruel cold rushed into the suite.

 

“Yes,” Sectonia replied.

 

The two women entered the warm, flashy sports car, and they were off. Sectonia gazed out the window and at the snow-clad buildings. Some students milled about on the sidewalk and hastened to their classes, while others engaged in snowball fights and built snowmen. None of them seemed especially interested in the flashy sports car, which would’ve drawn at least a few looks in Dreamland.

 

“They certainly seem to enjoy this weather,” Sectonia said, perturbed and hoping to break the silence.

 

The princess couldn’t stand it when people were cross with her, and even knowing that _she_ wasn’t the exact target for Garlude’s coldness, wasn’t quite enough to satisfy her.

 

“They do,” Garlude replied.

 

Silence reigned again.

 

“Did you send our thanks to Duchess Delilah for her hospitality?” Sectonia asked.

 

Obviously, Garlude had; the woman was known for her efficiency.

 

“I did. I sent flowers to her estate, a fruit basket to her office, and chocolates for Dedede.”

 

“They’re strange people,” Sectonia said.

 

“Perhaps, stranger than you know.”

 

“You sound as if you know more about them than you should,” Sectonia answered.

 

“I do try to keep abreast of things, Your Royal Highness. That includes knowing everything about every single person you might possibly come into contact with.”

 

“And?”

 

“And Dedede’s new best friend is the son of Nightmare Nocturne,” Garlude replied.

 

“Nightmare’s son?” Sectonia asked.

 

Sectonia had so many questions. There was no reason to doubt Garlude, but how had Delilah, the duchess of a small, backwater duchy, ended up raising the child of Nightmare Nocturne? Of course, Sectonia had _known_ Nightmare had a child. She’d even casually read the A.M.B.E.R. files on that child once she’d become the official head of the agency. But she’d never realized her _family_ was raising him. The Queen would be furious when she found out. Nightmare was everything Alera hated—common, wealthy, and powerful. He was a constant thorn in her side, creating much-needed and unprecedented pharmaceuticals and keeping his prices low. Alera had spent years trying to prevent Nightmare from becoming as massive as he had, but he outwitted her at every turn.

 

“How did he end up with Delilah?” Sectonia asked.

 

Garlude shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. It must’ve been a while ago, however. They both seem awfully protective of him. I asked the Duchess, and she wouldn’t tell me anything much.”

 

Sectonia pursed her lips and tried to decipher the duchess’s motive. Was she hoping to endear herself to Nightmare and gain his favor? Was she considering him as a viable marriage interest? Alera would never approve such a marriage, though, and as a duchess, Delilah’s marriages were subject to the approval of the reigning monarch. Delilah must realize that marrying Nightmare would result in the forfeiture of her titles. At least, it _should_.

 

Sectonia had done her research, though, and she knew that—despite Delilah’s rough mannerisms and personal failures—Delilah was well-liked within her duchy. Morale was high in her region, and she had the most highly educated people in all of Dreamland. Her region was also the most diverse with the highest population of Halcandrans outside the capital. If she made the decision to marry Nightmare, she might actually manage to do so with her title in-tact. Even if the Queen chose to strip her of her rank, Delilah could always appeal the decision to parliament, and with Nightmare’s support, Delilah _might_ be able to have the Queen’s decision overruled.

 

“Whatever the reason, Mother won’t be happy when she learns of this,” Sectonia said.

 

“She already knows,” Garlude said reluctantly. “I told her. She’d be furious if she learned I kept this a secret, but Delilah has been handling the Queen for a long time. She’ll be fine.”

 

“I do wish Mother would let their feud die,” Sectonia said.

 

It seemed irrelevant to fight anymore over who a dead man might’ve loved. At least, it did to Sectonia. She’d been three when her father was assassinated and couldn’t remember him, but had the Queen been present, Sectonia knew she’d have taken her side. Alera didn’t handle defiance well and viewed even the smallest disagreement as if it was going to spark a revolution, and although Sectonia would never admit it aloud, she privately wondered if her mother didn’t _enjoy_ humiliating her political opponents.

 

“I’m not at liberty to say whether or not their feud has merit,” Garlude replied, as the car pulled to a stop. “At any rate, we’re here.”

 

“Yes, botany,” Sectonia said, snatching the textbook and her notebooks from the seat. “Did you know, Garlude, that this professor is one of Floralia’s most famous botanists? What an honor!”

 

“Are you going to be this excited during your political science classes?” Garlude inquired.

 

Sectonia pursed her lips and held her books against her chest. No, she wouldn’t be, but this would make her mother happy. This would look good. What use would a degree like _botany_ do a crown princess? “Of course, I’ll be this excited about the rest,” Sectonia said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

The chauffeur opened the door, and Sectonia stepped out, her new boots crunching beneath old, firmly packed snow. Frigid, winter wind struck her face, and Sectonia frowned, imagining all the horrors that dry, winter wind could wreak upon her skin. Maybe she hadn’t been as prepared for this weather as she thought she’d been.

 

Garlude left the car and followed three steps behind as they walked up the sidewalk towards the life sciences building. No one bowed or curtsied. No one pointed or whispered. Sectonia frowned, bemused. But wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To do something without having her mother always hovering over her shoulder? Most of Dreamland University’s students were part of the aristocracy or the children of wealthy people, and while the university had a strict no-paparazzi policy, Sectonia still would’ve been hounded for favors by her classmates. It would’ve been exhausting.

 

 _Thunk_!

 

Sectonia heard the sound before she felt the cold and wetness drip down her neck. She put a hand on her coat collar and felt snow. Garlude snorted, seemingly in an attempt to contain her laughter. “Someone threw a snowball at me!” Sectonia said. “How dare—”

 

“I am _so_ sorry!”

 

A Floralian man sprinted to her. He was shorter than Sectonia by a few good inches and looked even smaller buried beneath all the layers of fur and fabric. His hair was as white as Floralia’s famous snow and nearly covered his diamond-grey eyes. As if in defiant contrast, his skin was dark like the space between the stars. When he smiled, his eyeteeth were uncommonly sharp, which by all accounts should have been deemed an imperfection, but Sectonia—despite her disbelief at being struck with a snowball—couldn’t help but find them cute. “Princess,” he greeted. “Dame Garlude, is it? Congratulations on being appointed as Knight-Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

 

Garlude bowed. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

 

Sectonia smiled politely in return. It’d just clicked who this man was. She’d never met this man, but she’d meticulously studied photos of every relevant Floralian. “Prince Taranza,” she replied. “What an unexpected pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

His flinch was nearly imperceptible, but Sectonia had been trained to notice even the smallest hints of emotion. “I do apologize. I hadn’t meant to strike _you_ with a snowball,” Taranza said, indicating to another Floralian man, who offered a sheepish wave.

 

He said it with a furrowed brow and a genuinely dismayed tone as if he thought Sectonia intended to turn a little snowball incident into an international crisis. Some royals would have. Sectonia quelled her irritation under a façade of regal coldness. It was merely an irritation and obviously unworthy of making anything of. “No harm was done,” Sectonia replied, patting her dark curls. “At least, nothing a little product couldn’t handle.”

 

At least, she hoped her products could handle it. It would annoy her to no end any time she glanced at her reflection if there were wayward strands. Mentally, she made a note to check the next mirror she found.

 

“I’m glad,” Taranza replied. “I’d have been dismayed if I’d have harmed the glorious Sectonia, She Who Holds the Stars.”

 

 _She Who Holds the Stars_. It was the epitaph coined by countless tabloids and journalists; she’d earned it after facing Galaxia’s judgment when she was only sixteen. Of everyone to try, Sectonia had come the closest. She’d left Galaxia with third-degree burns on her hands; most left Galaxia in much worse shape. Ambulances weren’t unheard of. Some even speculated that she, if given a few more years to mature, might be Galaxia’s wielder. Sectonia had resolved to try again, but before she could, the sword had disappeared without a trace.

 

Even if Sectonia hadn’t been able to wield Galaxia in the end, the epitaph had still stuck. She _was_ very powerful in her own right, surpassing even her mother’s magical talents. Some said she might be on par with Nightmare’s powers, and although Sectonia had never confirmed such rumors, she didn’t deny them either.

 

“I’m sure you’d have been more than dismayed,” Sectonia replied.

 

“I’m sure,” Taranza said. “I do hope that—aside from being accosted with a snowball—you’re enjoying your stay in Floralia?”

 

“Of course,” Sectonia replied. “I’m on my way to my first class, incidentally, so I must be going.”

 

“Oh, where are you headed?” Taranza asked. “Life sciences?”

 

“Yes. Botany, actually.”

 

Taranza grinned. “How funny. I’m headed that way, too.”

 


End file.
